Six Citations
by LadyStarblade
Summary: After "Confession," Mike Logan meets up with an unlikely kindred spirit. First person POV.


Title: Six Citations  
  
Author: Lady Starblade -- ladystarblade@hotmail.com  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Category: Drama/Angst  
  
Spoilers: "A Death in the Family" and "Confession"   
  
Warnings: Nope  
  
Archive: If ya want it, take it. Just let me know where.   
  
Feedback: Pretty please? (makes Bambi eyes)   
  
Disclaimer: The Law & Order Universe and the wonderful characters that inhabit it do not belong to me. I make no money from this writing.   
  
Author's Note: Yep, I'm at it again. Finally finished this baby. Hope everyone recognizes the character....I can get a little obscure.  
  
Dedication: For jesse, a hell of a writer who inspires me and puts up with my nagging praise. You rock!  
  
Summary: After "Confession," Mike Logan meets up with an unlikely kindred spirit. First person POV.  
  
**  
  
I was halfway through my fourth beer when he walked in. I had been sitting in the same damn corner of the .38 Special for the past hour, watching the day-shift cops trickle in and get their own drinks. I could tell the ones who'd had a bad day; they were the ones who turned down the beer, went straight for the hard stuff, and had two before they talked to anybody.  
  
And then there was Logan. His bad mood hung around him and acted like a magnet, repelling everyone away from him. It didn't stop the eyes, though. Every eye in the place at least touched on him, and many followed him as he stalked across the room. Stalking was Logan's preferred way to walk, unless he was having a really good day, then it was a swagger.  
  
Today was not one of those days.  
  
To tell you the truth, I was kinda surprised to see him out and about. His partner Greevey bought it only a few days ago. Nasty business. I know me of all people shouldn't hope this, but I hope Logan runs into the perp in a dark alley and saves the cost of a trial.  
  
Logan made it to the bar and, much to my surprise, left with a beer instead of something harder. With that Irish in him, I figured he would have at least two or three hard ones. Shows you what I know.  
  
Guess I shouldn't have been thinking so hard about him, because I think he heard me. His look zeroed right in on me, and I immediately concentrated on the peanut in my hand. Damn. He's probably gonna take that as an invitation. I started counting in my head. I hit twelve before I heard his voice.  
  
"Sandoval."   
  
Oh yeah, statement of fact makes for a great conversation starter. I popped the shell off another peanut with a quick wrist flick. Wolfing these things down by the handful is the only reason I can drink four beers in an hour and still see straight. I am such a little girl, after all. I took the time to cock an eyebrow up at him. "Logan."  
  
He glanced around for a second before asking quietly, "You mind?" He gestured at the empty chair across from me. I shrugged.  
  
"Nobody else is using it."   
  
His eyes narrowed a bit at my flippancy, but he bit back whatever comment flitted across his mind and sat down, his beer hitting the table with a soft click. I tilted the small bucket of peanuts his way. "Peanut?" He shook his head and watched me crack open another one as I shrugged again. "Suit yourself."  
  
I eyed him for a moment. "Howya been?" I made sure to take the sarcasm out of my voice. Logan may be damned irritating, but any cop coming out of losing a partner deserved a break.  
  
Logan shrugged in a mirror of me. "I'll live." He gave me a look that immediately pissed me off. "You know how it is."  
  
"Yeah, I would know, wouldn't I?" The snap was already back. The man always seemed to bring it out in me.  
  
"I didn't mean it like that." He gulped down half his beer as I sat and bristled. "And you know I didn't mean it like that."  
  
Didn't you?, I thought. I was still trying to think of a comeback when he started talking again. I swear, that man must be in love with the sound of his own voice. "So what have you been up to?"  
  
I grabbed a peanut and cracked it harder than I should have. The whole thing shattered in my hand. I grimaced and swept the powder away. "Had to give up my badge." It was the price I had to pay for shooting my own partner.  
  
"Once a cop, always a cop. It's gotta be hard, having to give it up."  
  
You have no idea, Detective. "Yeah well, it's kinda hard to keep the fire burning when you're stuck behind a dispatch console."  
  
"You're workin' Dispatch now? I can imagine the excitement." A corner of his mouth twitched up as he took another swig from his bottle.  
  
I shrugged again. "At least I'm still with the department. Better than most cop-killers, huh?"  
  
He shot me that patented Logan "I-Don't-Believe-You" double take. "Come on, you're no cop-killer."  
  
"Right. I killed my partner." I looked away, feeling that old shame creeping up on me again.  
  
"A dirty cop who broke almost every rule in the book before drawing on you."  
  
My eyes snapped up, surprised that he apparently gave a damn. "So what?" I half-snarled.  
  
He just scowled back at me. But behind the scowl I could see it. That lost look that kids get when a parent dies. When a guy suddenly loses his wife. When a cop's partner gets gunned down.   
  
All the fight went out of me and I slouched back into my chair, flicking an empty shell off the table. I watched it hit the floor and skitter out of sight. I really didn't want to fight with Logan. I didn't have the energy for it, and he didn't deserve it. Not now, at least.  
  
I stared at the bottle in his hand rather than at him. "I'm sorry about your partner." You know how they talk about words hanging in the air? Well, those five beauties were hanging there wondering where the hell its buddies were. I supposed I should say something else, but I didn't. I just stared at the bottle.   
  
Logan finally gave up waiting for me and muttered, "Yeah." He drained his beer and stood up. "Look, Sandoval...."  
  
"Vicki." I have no idea why I said that; I tried to forget that my first name was Victoria. It's bad enough being a petite cop without being saddled with a delicate first name like that. I don't think there was a cop in the entire city that called me by my first name. I spared a glare at my now empty beer. Maybe four were too many, even with the peanuts.   
  
He looked down at me with hooded eyes, and I couldn't tell what he was thinking. Finally, he smiled a little smile. "Short for Victoria?"  
  
I surprised myself by smiling back. "Yeah. After the Queen."  
  
Logan's eyebrows rose as he dipped his head down at me. "Strong queen. A strong name for strong women."  
  
I stared, then barked a laugh. "You of all people getting sentimental, Logan?"  
  
"Mike."   
  
Okay, now I'm confused. I thought about it for a second, then realized he was trading me. A name for a name. I nodded.  
  
He began to turn away, then stopped. Glancing back, he asked, "You have six citations for bravery, huh?"  
  
"Sure do. All lining my sock drawer." Not really. They were in my sock drawer, but in a nice little felt-lined box.  
  
"I've only got two."  
  
"Only two?" I cracked open another peanut. "I'm surprised."  
  
"Well....I always got stuck with covering the back door."   
  
I honestly didn't know if he was kidding. After a second, I could tell he wasn't going to tell me either way. Figures. I kept looking at him, still feeling a little confused. It was easy not to like Logan the cocky bastard. But Mike the tired cop? That was harder. He went to leave again and was a couple steps away before I called out.  
  
"Hey Mike, buy you another beer?"  
  
He looked at me for a second, then held up a hand and said, "Nah. I got this round." I held up my bottle so he could see the label. He smiled and headed over to the bar, not stalking quite so bad this time. That smile had none of the Logan cockiness. It was more like a relieved smile. I wasn't gonna coddle him or pity him, and he knew it.   
  
Because I know how it is.  
  
END 


End file.
